Lullaby
by bejome
Summary: An alternate ending to Ib that never really happened, but probably could have.


"Don't give me that look."

Ib felt her throat go dry even as Garry smiled at her. It was such a soft expression, too gentle for the tousled purple hair that adorned his head and that gothic looking coat that jutted out over his bony shoulders. She watched in horror as he moved to exchange his blue rose with Mary, exchanging his life for Ib's as if it were nothing more than an afterthought!

How stupid, Ib thought, as she watched Garry's thin fingers tremble ever so slightly. They barely knew each other, and yet they had grown so close in the hours they had shared here. Or had it been days? Ib couldn't even remember anymore and she truthfully didn't care.

It was her fault, she'd lost her rose in the fall and she should have to pay for her foolishness, not Garry. It was only right.

Her mother and father had always told her to take responsibility for her actions, she may be a child but that didn't always excuse childish behavior. She hadn't always been sure of what her mother had meant by that, but now she did, or at least she thought she did.

Ib's blood chilled as she watched the wicked satisfaction of victory fill Mary's eyes. How hollow and inhuman they looked to Ib now. She wondered how she hadn't seen it before. It didn't matter though. Mary reached out slowly to take Garry's rose, and Ib could see with a breaking heart how Garry quivered handing it over. He knew what he was doing, but to save Ib, he would.

Sadness, anger, pain, all of that welled up inside of Ib and even as she thought about how childishness was a bad thing, she believed that in the wake of what was about to happen, it might be permissible – just this once.

It would also probably be the last time.

"No!" Ib shouted.

Both Mary and Garry started at the unexpected noise, but neither was prepared for what happened next.

With all the speed and deftness of a child Ib ran past the two of them, yanking Garry's rose just out of Mary's grasp and skidded to a halt just out of reach. She turned facing two very shocked adult faces, her own set in grim determination.

"I won't let you!" She yelled, tears welling in her bright red eyes.

"Ib!" Garry breathed, "Ib come back with that! What are you doing?"

"I won't let you give her your rose! She'll kill you!"

His eyes were wide in shock and alarm. He stepped away from Mary, turning toward Ib, his hand reaching out toward her. His demeanor was gentle, but Ib was certain she could hear something else in his voice. Panic, maybe? He was shaking much more visibly now, and for a moment Ib was frightened that she had damaged the rose.

She gasped, looking it over once, twice, and again, but found that no harm had been done to it. Why, then, did Garry look so pale suddenly?

"Ib, please, give that back! Mary has your rose, if we don't do what she wants…"

"I don't care!" Ib shouted again, glancing at Mary who still seemed dazed by the entire interaction. "I won't let her hurt you!"

"Ib she might hurt _you_!"

Garry's eyes were wide and indeed panic stricken now, his voice and body shook as he stepped closer to her, and it was in that moment that Ib realized why Garry looked the way he did: he was afraid. He was afraid for Ib. He truly had been willing to sacrifice himself for her! That thought, however, only made Ib more firm in her stance.

"Please, Ib!" Garry begged. "Please, give me back my rose. We can get it back later."

She turned her gaze over to Mary who was staring her down with a fierce pout, clearly unhappy in her defeat.

"Listen to Garry, Ib," she said menacingly. "He knows what's best."

Ib took a step backwards, trying to ignore how very desperate Garry looked and how very devious Mary did.

"No!"

A flash of red and a weak _'pluck' _noise filled the air. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Ib watched as a delicate red petal fell to the floor. Garry gasped as he watched it fall. They both knew there was no vase in this room. If the flower was voided of its petals…

"Mary!"

Mary looked to Garry, Ib seemingly momentarily forgotten, and smiled evilly.

"My my, if I can't have a blue flower to play with…I guess this one will have to do!"

Garry became ashen as Mary twisted another petal between her fingertips.

"This one's nice too though…it smells pretty. Only five little petals on this one though, well, four now," she laughed. "…it won't last long."

Ib met Garry's eyes and in that instant she saw all of his pleading, all of his heartache as he silently begged her to bring back his flower. He _would_ save her, she knew he would, and truthfully she was scared and wanted him too, but not like this. If this was the end, she would not let it be fearful and alone in this horrible place. She wanted to be brave, for Garry, and for her parents trapped in that painting.

Maybe when all of this was fixed, Garry would tell them that she had been a good little girl, that she had been courageous. She had helped and saved him, and then they would be proud of her. Ib would have become the little girl her parents wanted her to be, even if they were sad.

Ib met Garry's eyes; they were so pretty, bluer than his rose, even with his tears (when had he started crying?), but she shook her head, taking one more step away from him. The delicate ripping noise of a petal, so slight, but somehow also deafening, made its way to each of their ears. Ib winced, she could feel herself growing cold and weak. She wanted to sit down but she knew she couldn't. She had to get Garry's flower far away from here. Garry would follow her, she knew, but her rose…Ib…could not be saved. She knew that now.

This was her choice.

Mary hummed to herself as she tugged and pinched at another petal – as if in her own little world.

Turning suddenly, Garry looked as though he might lunge instead at Mary, but as he did so she took the rose's bud in her free hand and squeezed. Ib felt the pressure and pain of the force inside of herself and whimpered in pain. Garry froze, hearing her mouse-like squeak of distress. Ib's situation now so much more delicate than either of them had realized before.

"Mary, I'm _begging_ you. Give me a chance to get my rose from Ib. It'll be yours…you can do whatever you want with it…just please…don't hurt Ib!"

Silence fell and Ib watched with increasing fear the two adults as they glared each other down. She'd seen Garry worried, tired, confused, frustrated, and even disheartened, but never angry. Ib wasn't sure, but she felt that Garry was angry now. Mary couldn't be trusted, and she had Ib's rose, and with two petals removed already Garry was certain he couldn't trust Mary to keep her promise.

Garry was right.

A flash of defiance powered Mary's artificial eyes and with little to no thought at all she gripped the rose bud in her hand and snapped the head clean off.

"Oops," she snickered.

"IB!"

Ib felt her legs give out beneath her, and the room grew dark and cold alarmingly fast. Was this what it felt like to die? She waited for her head to hit the ground, braced for it even, but the blow never game. For as cold as she suddenly felt, something was now very tightly wrapped around her. It was warm, and pleasant, and smelled like lemon. Scratchy bits of hair were pushed in her face and she felt something hot on her ear. Garry's voice was echo-y, as if he was calling after her down a long corridor, but she could hear it.

"Ib? IB?!"

Shakily Ib held up the blue rose to hand it to Garry. If he was this close then she could give it back without fear of Mary stealing it away. She had done it! She'd saved Garry!

"Hide it," she whispered. Garry deftly brushed it aside and replaced it with her rose. It was such a sad little stem, devoid of all of its petals.

"Hold on to this Ib!" Garry mumbled into her ear. "I'm going to get you to a vase!"

She suddenly felt off center and realized that Garry was picking her up. Soon they were running. She could hear Garry pant as he strafed through the hallways, even a few loud bangs as he kicked in every door they came across. It seemed to go on forever, these halls, his curses (the first time she'd ever heard him do so). As he began to slow, Ib found the strength to whisper: "how did you get my flower back?"

Garry huffed a slight laugh.

"Don't you worry about that, you just hold on to it: tightly, okay?"

Ib nodded, though she was pretty sure Garry didn't see it.

She was getting cold again though, and turned her head slightly into the crook of Garry's arm. He smelled so nice, and the feeling of his heartbeat was soothing. She felt she could sleep here forever and it wouldn't be such a bad thing.

"Garry?" she was a little surprised at how weak her voice sounded, but Ib tried not to think about it.

"What is it Ib?"

"Are you mad?"

It took Garry a while to respond, not because he was thinking, but because he was kicking in another door. It seemed that this new set of hallways wasn't friendly to trapped museum goers and their life giving flowers.

"No Ib, I'm not mad. I just want to make you better."

"Promise?"

Through her haze she thought she saw a smile in a mess of purple hair. Something wet dropped on her cheek as she peered upward, her eyes not quite able to focus on his face.

"I promise." Ib smiled, satisfied with the answer. She curled a little more into his chest, but was momentarily jarred by Garry rattling her in his arms. "Hey, don't do that! We're going to find you a vase soon."

"I'm sleepy," Ib replied. It wasn't an argument, just a simple statement. Garry's voice sounded funny when he spoke, like a bubble had popped in his throat.

"I know Ib, but just hold on, okay?"

Ib tried to blink away her grogginess, but it didn't help. She felt herself slipping even as she heard Garry say something about a vase at the end of the hall.

Garry.

He was so warm. Ib knew if she fell asleep just for a minute that she'd be safe here…

-x-

The vase. It was right there at the end of the hall.

At no point in his life had Garry ever ran faster. He clutched Ib, and grasped quickly for the flower stem now cupped loosely in her hands. She was so cold! This wasn't happening! It wasn't happening!

"Ib! Hold on!" he yelled. The hallway was a blur, everything but that bright blue water at the far end. He leaped, pulled Ib tight with one arm and with the other plunged the empty stem deep into the vase, and collapsed against the nearest wall.

Heaving and sighing in relief, Garry clung to Ib tightly and waited. She was so cold! But she hadn't been out long – surely it would just take a second and she would be fine! She had to be! He waited and counted; _one_…_two_…_three_…._four_….._five_…

….._six_…..

"Ib?"

….._seven_….

"Hey…Ib?"

…_eight_….

…_nine_….

"Ib? Ib wake up! Open your eyes!"

**Ten**.

Garry stared down at that innocent little face, pale and cool to the touch. Gazing at the vase he was horrified to find that the water had not been drained…the stem had not sprouted a new bud…new petals….

"No!" he croaked.

Ib was still clutched in his other arm as he tried again, moving the stem, pulling it out, placing it back…nothing. There was no magical, life giving effect this time…the flower was gone.

"Ib!" he gave upon the flower and turned his attention to the child in his arms. "Ib! IB!"

She was silent.

It was one of her tricks, it had to be. Her childish sense of humor…but this, this was _not_ funny. He told her that has he shook her, gently at first, and then more firmly as panic set in. Ib was still…too still for a little girl, and her cheeks, her tiny hands…they were all so cold!

"Ib…" he sobbed, cradling her and stroking her hair. He rocked, back and forth, perhaps convincing himself that this was just a lullaby and she truly was sleeping. This strange, quiet little girl that had captured his heart…

Yes, he told himself as he rocked her, hiccupping between his sobs: Ib is sleeping now.


End file.
